


Broke Down Begging

by sksdwrld



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Claiming, M/M, Werewolf Senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1363978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The full moon leaves Peter clinging to humanity by a tenuous thread.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broke Down Begging

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitty_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_fic/gifts).



> Title from Cocorosie's "Werewolf"
> 
> http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/cocorosie/werewolf.html

For writerverse

 

Turning _were_ was not so much a painful shedding of his human skin as it was the slow combustion of every cell of his body and the simultaneous spawning of a new being.

His wolf-awareness violently shoved all of him that was civilized and collected to the recesses of their shared brain and instinct took over everything but a single thread of consciousness that Peter clung to in order to keep himself in check. 

His blood burned in his veins, making him itch to run wild; to leave people and places in utter ruin in a vulgar display of animalistic power. 

God help them both: Peter's balls hung heavy and pendulous when he caught Roman's scent on the down-draft of wind, and he grew restless with the need to rut, claim, and own. 

The underbrush tore at his coat and whipped painfully against his snout but it didn't stop him from racing at top speed across the land that separated them. His shoulder slammed into the Godfrey's front door and he howled, not with pain but in summons. When no one came, he began to scratch, determined to have Roman no matter the cost. 

Peter's tenuous hold on humanity was slipping. 

When it became clear that he wasn't going to make it in that way, he began to circle the mansion, howling at odd intervals and leaping against the windows, looking for the _Upir_ that he would claim as mate. The sound of the latch opening may as well have been a shotgun blast. Peter darted around the side of the house and launched himself toward the door before it could shut him out again. 

One paw shoved the door open and he banked to the right, nails clicking as he landed on the floor. The scent of fear, acrid and thick, hung palpably but through it all was Roman: blood, smoke, entitlement, pretentious cologne, and unspoken promise. 

Roman was pale and beautiful, but towering over Peter now, as he did, made the wolf in him nervous and angry. His ears flattened back and he growled. Roman's hands flew up defensively as he paled, but Peter only hunkered down furthur, his lips curling away from his teeth. 

"Peter..." Roman trembled. "Fuck, Pete..." 

As Roman fumbled for a cigarette, Peter barked and the pack slipped to the floor. Cursing, Roman bent to retrieve it, but it was the opening Peter had been waiting for. He lunged at Roman and knocked him to the floor, his snout pushing past Roman's scrabbling hands and finding a warm, slender neck. 

His jaw hinged loosely; an idle threat, he hoped. Roman stiffened at first but then his fingers buried into the thick collar of fur ringing Peter's shoulders. His laugh rumbled in his chest and he bared his throat. "Yeah, go ahead and kill me you fucker..." 

Peter shook Roman slightly and the _Upir_ went pliant in his grip, his hands falling to the sides. Whining a warning, Peter eased his teeth away and began to lick instead. Roman swore as he squirmed and laughed but Peter paid him no mind. It was this or hump him, for Christ's sake, the only friend he'd ever had...Soon, Roman was wet with saliva, but Peter kept on, nosing beneath his t-shirt to get at the skin of his belly. 

When Roman tried to sit up, pushing at Peter in protest, Peter snarled and snapped at him. Roman shucked his shirt, and at At Peter's urging, his jeans. Peter licked him for hours, until Roman's scent and taste were gone, replaced with Peter's own. 

Only then did Peter calm, allowing Roman to curl against him and tug great handfuls of fur as he let him. The transformation came upon him without warning: more of the same excruciating bone-cracking, eyeball-popping, and skin sloughing. 

Through it all, Roman held Peter and when all was said and done, the two boys lay naked in a pile of gore, clinging to one another in the entryway. That was how Olivia found them in the wee hours of the morning. 

Sniffing distastefully and lighting a cigarette, she stepped over them and began to ascend the staircase. "I expect this mess to be cleaned up in the morning. And Roman, I've told you: No Satanic rituals on school nights."


End file.
